


Um, is Eating Ass an Elective?

by evilicious



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, I don't know, Marth is horny, More characters to be added, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilicious/pseuds/evilicious
Summary: Marth goes to college to get away from his parents and get laid. Instead, he gets depression.





	Um, is Eating Ass an Elective?

          Prince Marth was royally screwed, in the most literal sense of the word. His stomach was huge and swollen, littered with veiny red stretchmarks and blotchy purple bruises unintentionally caused by the beast dwelling in his womb and the penis projectile-orgasming inside of him like a t-shirt cannon shooting its washed-up goods across a baseball stadium, only at ultra-close-range. A pair of plump, heavy breasts jutted out of his chest in preperation of the child. However, despite his body's pregnancy, and despite their difference in biological makeup, Meta Knight's huge, massive, mosterous meat-finger was blue balls deep into Marthu's bootal cabootle, and the sweet prince could blame no one but himself for his descent into borderline-beastiality. See, it started years ago, during his more experimental phase in college....

 

           After convincing his father, who happened to be the king of the small empire he hailed from, that a college education would benefit their nation in the long run, Prince Marth, with little-to-no-help from the Internet (which was unavailable in his third-world country) or his family (while available, were the antithesis of helpful), enrolled himself into Sakurai University.

  
            The prince was wealthy enough to afford his own apartment off-campus, but that would take away from the educational experience. At least, that's what he told his dad as they struggled through the paperwork for the dorms. In truth, Marth was twenty years old, lesbian, and horny on main. He'd heard all about sex from the lewd erotica his older sister didn't know he kept under her bed, and, boy was he ready to get totally SLOSHED in the quad and lose his V-card to some complete stranger.

  
            Moving day came and went, but Mars was stuck living in a hotel room until three nights before the fist day of classes. He was supposed to move in with everyone else two weeks before, but the college fucked up the paper work regarding his rights to open-carry and store his sword on campus. Somehow, half the forms he submitted--the half pertaining to him being allowed to take his sword to class- went through with no issue, but the ones allowing him to keep his sword in his dorm didn't. In essence, as long as his weapon was on his person, it was acceptable, which was ridiculously stupid, and he told the lady behind the desk this in the most princely, politest way possible.

            The woman simply nodded and told him she didn’t make the rules.  
            It had been a bitch and massive headache on his end, because the dumbass technologically-advanced troglodytes working in Student Services refused to accept his information in any other format besides digital, despite having approved the rest of his documentation and registration on parchment. Marth, the prince of a country that still relied on carrier pigeons, found himself unceremoniously dumped head-first into the world of computers and filling out online applications. The hardest part was navigating through the school's website that was infuriatingly disorganized and probably some programming major’s final from ten years prior.  
            After the system _finally_ recognized that he was legally permitted to house his weapon on campus, there was the matter of re-assigning his roommate, because the first person he'd been roomed with couldn't store swords in his room.  
            Which was okay. Marth could deal with this. Sure, he and Little Mac had really hit it off during their face-to-face interaction at Orientation, but they'd only met one time and Marth was a very amicable person, so he was sure he'd get along just as spectacularly with whomever the school was able to dorm him with last minute.  
            With these positive thoughts radiating in his mind, Marth plastered on a smile and entered his new room.  
            The room was the size of a prison cell—half the size of any given dungeon chamber in his castle’s basement- and decorated almost as sparsely. On each side of the room was an elevated bed with a desk beneath it. The bunk on the left was covered in a simple, green comforter that matched the attire of its occupant so closely that Marth almost didn't notice the other person—his new roommate-sprawled over various piles of school supplies until he made his way down the ladder.  
_"Boku wa Marsu, anata no ruumumaito desu,"_ the prince greeted charmingly, holding out his hand. While he was the prince of an ambiguously European country with western customs and practices, he only spoke Japanese. It wasn't that he didn't know English. He was fairly fluent and could understand most of it perfectly, he just, for the life of him, could not speak it.  
            The man—elf?-- shook it silently with a nod then returned to organizing his inventory or whatever he was doing on his bed.  
            Marth's roommate, Link Triforce, was a Hylien elf from Hyrule. His hair was blonde, his eyes were blue, his ears were pointy, and Marth could only assume his favorite color was green. Everything Marth knew about the man came from either the print-out he'd been given with his room changes, or his own personal observations, because Link himself had yet to say a word. It had been nearly twenty-four hours, nearly an entire day since Marth moved into the dorms. Link was hot and all, but he didn’t seem to be sexually attracted to sex in the slightest, and Marth was slowly losing his mind instead of his virginity. The silence was unbearable, and _Marth couldn’t leave._  
            That wasn’t to say he hadn’t put a great deal of effort towards trying.  
            Sailor Mars realized, two hours into unpacking, that Link’s responses to his questions were simply five different grunts and four nod/shrug motions on rotate, so he decided to head to the dining building for a bit. Key word? Decided. He never truly got past that part, because he couldn’t escape his hall.

            Every time he tried to progress further into the campus map, he ran into an invisible barrier, the kind that could only be passed with a key item, paid DLC or by triggering the story to advance. After watching all the items in his posseson hit the air and slide to the floor with an unsatisfying _whap_ or _splat_ or _borp_ or whatever sound that particular thing made upon being thrown against a wall and colliding with the ground, Marth resorted to chucking some of Link’s items. This failed, too.

            At that point, eight hours in, Marx noticed the sky outside the window wasn’t changing. There being a window on the floor processed in his mind immediately afterwards, and the prince, feeling both hopeful and a little panic-y tried to squeeze his juicy-thick, diplomASSic royal rump out of a window half its size. If he’d managed to get out the window, he wouldn’t have gotten more than a leg out before getting trapped. Thankfully for the pride of his future bloodline, he never made it that far, another invisible barrier barring his way.

            As a last resort, Marth whipped out his coin purse and started flinging his allowance in every direction in hopes of downloading some new, uncharted DLC. This unlocked the dorm on the opposite end of the floor, which turned out to be a make-shift game room filled with unlabeled arcade systems, teleporters to, presumably, more mini games. In the center of the room bobbed a large egg in a white cape with disembodied hands and cat ears. Marth was semi-curious to how exactly the creature was floating on air, but, as someone who knew many people whose kids had come from the future to help them fight dragons and evade their taxes, he knew that some things just shouldn’t be questioned.

            _“Tadaima!”_ Marth said, taking off his shoes by the door like the fucking weeb he is.

            The cat-egg-thing bounded across the room with great zeal and took Marth’s normal sized hand in his oven-sized mitts and shook it enthusiastically. Despite not having car dealers in his nation and being unfamiliar with door-to-door Jehovah’s Witnesses, the prince could feel the bad voodoo radiating off the creature like a bad funk from expired cheese and he was instantly on edge.

            “Hello! You must be the Hero! I’m a mage from a distant dimension, Magolor! I do think we’ll be the best of friends!” Eggcat— _Magolor_ chirped incoherently as a convenient blue dialogue box translated his gibberish into English.

            “No,” Marth started, and the author, who has never played a single FE game, prays her once-over of the FE wiki wasn’t about to fail her, _“I am a Lord-o.”_

            Magolor blinked blankly with his two golden eyes that look like those old-school two-prong electrical sockets from the 70s at my grandma’s house.

            “It’s a class system.” The prince explained patiently, but the damage had already been done.

            The mage scoffed and released Marth’s abused and now bruised hand. “These mini-games are only for my _friends_ and _heroes.”_

            Okay, what the actual fuck. Sure, opening this room had only cost him two G which was remarkably little in the sense that he was a prince, but once you put conversion rate and inflation into account, two gold coins were worth _a lot._

            In today’s market, two gold coins, roughly an ounce each, are worth 1281 US dollars a piece. $1281, in terms this asshat scrambled egg wizard could understand, was sixty-four $19.99 purchases of Gem Apples, GA for short. $19.99 could buy 2150 GA. Sixty-four payments of $19.99 is 154,800 GA. Multiply that by two, and Marth had wasted 309,600 Gem Apples to enter this goddamned game room. Like hell he wasn’t going to use it.

            “Where I come from, Lords can be heroes,” Martino attempted to justify himself (in Japanese. Remember, he’s still speaking Japanese. Not that that’s relevant at all now, because of some magic tomfoolery, language isn’t a barrier for Magolor, but just… remember.)

            Magobore gave Marthy Marc the most unimpressed look over and returned to where he’d been previously stationed in the center of the room.

            Taking a step forward activated a cutscene where two kids in striped shirts stood at one of the arcade machines, a dinosaur just _there_ for some aesthetic purposes or something. One of the boys, the blonde one, was in tears.

            “My mom’s dead,” he whined. “Every time I—” sob, sob “-come here, it reminds me of her.”

            Time paused for a second, and a LUCAS hovered beneath him in white 3D WordArt from Microsoft 2003.

            “It’s going to be okay,” the brunette in the baseball cap, NESS, the text labeled him, assured. The dinosaur, YOSHI, said nothing and got a title screen, too.

            _Oh my Garneff, the voice acting is so bad._ Marth groaned inwardly in Nipponese. _Skip cutscene, skip cutscene, SKIP CUTSCENE._

            Alas, the cutscene could not be skipped.

            After an infuriating three minutes of a child sobbing, the prince was forced on a side quest to help Ness find Lucas’s new foster mom, Rosalina.

            (“This is great!” Magolor had nodded his entire body happily. “Helping those in need is what a _hero_ would do!”)

            The quest was overall incredibly stupid and Ness wouldn’t let him escape to the dining hall to _eat_ , which was something he’d needed to do for _hours_ , but, when it was finally done, Marth felt pretty satisfied with the hugs Lucas and Ness gave him, and the soft “Thank you” Rosalina murmured with a smile. That was his good deed for the day, he felt pretty great—

            Until he was transported _back_ to the game room on the floor of his dorm he couldn’t escape from and _no time had passed._

            “Feel free to play my mini games any time you like!” Magolor waved as Marth stormed off.

            He paced the hall a few more times, knocked on some doors hoping that would instigate a conversation that would progress the plot. Nothing worked. Marth was slowly losing his mind.

            Until, like a savior, a boot slammed through one of the vents, followed by a leg, and then the rest of a body.

            The vents! In his few weeks in civilization, Marth learned a bit about indoor cooling units. Not enough to immediately think of air vents as a means of escape, but enough to recognize an escape when presented to him.

            The person got up and brushed off his pants. His pants were like those tacky khaki equestrian pants pro-jockeys wear, except black to match his high-collared trench coat, which was also black, and his shoes, which were black, too, and his shirt, which was black with small decals in an off-black, and his black hair. The only things on him that weren’t black were his red gloves and the white Phantom-of-the-Opera-esque masque that complimented his gorgeous grey eyes.

            “Yo,” he greeted. “Didn’t think anyone else would be up. I’m Joker.”

            _“Marsu-desu,”_ Marth intoned distractedly. “Is that a way out?”

            Joker looked behind him. “The vent? Nah, I’m late registration, so that’s just where I’m sleeping until I’m fully enrolled.” He adjusted his red gloves stylishly and glanced back at Marth. “You on this floor?”

              _“Hai._ Room 404.” The prince’s characteristic empathy kicked in. “A vent doesn’t seem like a comfortable place to sleep….”

            The masked vigilante shrugged. “I sleep in attics. This is nothing.”

            “Well, ah,” Marth licked his lips and awakened his SLUTTYPRINCE mode that was trapped within him for years. His baby blue cerulean eyes, previously dormant and dim, discharged DESIRE. Not like teary discharge. Romantic sexual gaze discharge of LUST. “If you want a warm bed to sleep in...”

            Remember kids: being horny doesn’t automatically give you the power to be a good flirt or be less awkward about your intentions. Thankfully, while Marth was the Prince of Purity, Joker was a vigilante famed for stealing _virginity_ and he was the King of Hearts, Jack of All Trades, Ace of Spades but, honey, this masked man was on a mission to _plow_ and spades weren’t the tool he’d be using to farm his seed in Marth’s untainted taint.

            Joker winked. “You offering?”

            “It’s a twin-sized bed…”

            And that’s how Marth lost his anal virginity to Joker on his twin-sized bunk bed as Link continued to count rupees forever like some NPC.

 

            “So,” Marth said, feeling sore, but not really in the good way. Not yet, at least. Maybe that would happen once the pain stopped. His asshole was bleeding, but damn if it didn’t feel _great_ to disappoint his dad. “Any idea what time it is?”

            Joker looked over at him quizzically. He was buck naked, but his mask was still on. Taking it off summoned his Persona, and there was barely enough room on the bed for two of them; no way would a ten-foot-tall third occupant fit.

            “Evening.”

            “Yes, but _what time?”_ Marth asked again.

            “Evening,” Joker responded again. “It won’t be night until we sleep.”

            “I see…” Marth didn’t understand it, but what the hell? Sleeping couldn’t hurt. So that’s what he did. He went to sleep.

 

            The next day. When Marth woke up, it was the next day. Link was elsewhere and Joker was fully dressed and stealing hearts out of one of the Hyrulian’s item bags when the prince finally rolled his naked ass out of his bunk.

            “Mornin’” Joker said casually. Casually because there was nothing romantic at all between him and Marth and both of them were 100% aware and comfortable with that. “Maybe we can do this again sometime. See ya.” He backflipped into the ceiling vent.

            Unfortunately, Marth soon learned, progressing forward a day did not mean he could leave his dorm building, but at least the hunger was gone.

            Link returned silently, and swung his sword a couple times, grunted, and went back to being silent.

            It was too early to go to bed, and the mini-games only occupied him for so long.

            Marth was hungry again. No, he was starving. He was slowly losing his mind, too.

            Just as the last of what remained of Marth’s sanity slowly escaped him, a loud explosion sounded from outside the door.

            _BANG!_ Went the sound, loud and oblivious to the concerned of others as it made its presence known like that one second-cousin who makes poor life-decisions purely to piss off the father that gave her abandonment issues and shows up at Christmas wearing booty shorts and asking everyone for $20.

            To most, hearing what could possibly be a grenade or a shotgun or a firework, especially in a learning environment, would be a cause of alarm. For Marth, it meant an excuse to leave his dorm. In another word: salvation.

            Martini poked his head into the hall to see that nearly everyone else on the floor had similar ideas and there was a row of fellow dormies peeking into the hall as well.

            “Any idea what that was?” One of the guys from room 405 asked. He was human, from what Marth could tell, and had flaming red hair that looked like he chopped it off with his own sword. His roommate, a blue bird-man rolled his blue bird eyes and scoffed out his bird beak.

            “Don’ worry about it,” Bird Boy bristled. “That blast wasn’t big enough to bring down the roof.”

            Marth smiled at his neighbors and offered a hand. Politics were his forte and making connections was a huge part of politics. “Not the best circumstances to meet under, but hello. I’m Marth.”

            The Bird Man looked confused but Roy, fully fluent in Japanese as well, perked up. “I’m Roy. Niceta meetcha.”

            “Falco,” Falco shook Marth’s fingers with his feathers. “Don’t forget it.”

            The vent on the ceiling opened, emitting a huge billowy fume of black smog as Joker fell from the ceiling, coughing.

            “Did anyone call the RA?” someone murmured.

            “How about the _police?”_ another replied.

            “What are you all standing around for?” Marth said, taking it upon himself to be the leader. “Open some windows. Let’s air this place out.”

            Only _after_ most of the smoke cleared and Joker made a full recovery, the sprinklers went off in both the hallway _and_ the dorms earning a collective groan as it ruined everyone’s expensive textbooks.

            “What the bloody _fuck_ is going on here?” a womanly voice reeking erotica echoed throughout the hall. The voice belonged to a body. A hot body. A smoking hot body, most would say. And that hot body belonged to one of the dorm’s RA’s, Bayonetta. Bayonetta was wearing six inch heels, glasses, very little clothing and gave off that “mommy” vibe like a lewd librarian. She was _killing_ it in her heels, too. The floor was wet and she was strutting around in puddles completely undeterred. “Mummy went on _one_ errand, and I come back to a dumpster fire.” She turned to Joker who was not, for anyone wondering, her son. “You, boytoy. Explain.”

            “I was in the vents and someone threw _five_ smoke grenades in there.” Joker huffed out. He didn’t seem upset, but he didn’t emote much either and Marth had only fucked him once, so it was hard to tell.

            Out of literally nowhere, a man in a skin-tight leopard print bodysuit that highlighted his _incredibly_ filled-out bubble butt and jelly glutes appeared. His name was Solid Snake, but his ass was the opposite of solid. It was a jiggly phat mess, and Marth couldn’t stop himself from staring. He wasn’t a virgin anymore, but he still had urges. “I thought you were an enemy spy that needed to be smoked out. Sorry, civilian.” After what may have been the worst apology in the history of Sakurai University, Snake and his bouncy bum returned to the dorm across the hall, and Bayonetta whistled appreciatively and left.


End file.
